By the time he was 10, Billy Tallon had compiled bundles of scrapbooks about the royal family, and written to them countless times asking for a job. At 15 he finally got his dearest wish, landing a humble post as a junior assistant in the Steward's Room at Buckingham Palace. Then, for 51 years, Tallon served the King and Queen, and later the Queen Mother, with a discreet, professional, unwavering devotion. Eventually, the shopkeeper's son from Coventry rose in rank to become steward and page of the backstairs to the Queen Mother, the most important servant in her retinue and widely reported to be her personal favourite.

So the end, when it finally came, was particularly brutal. Not for the Queen Mother, who we are told died quietly in her sleep, but for her devoted servant. Tallon may have spent a large part of his 66 years paying discreet service to the royal family, but when his services became, abruptly, surplus to requirements, the family evidently did not feel it owed him so much as a phone call in return. The first Tallon knew of the Queen Mother's death was when a tabloid reporter rang him for his reaction. He was said to be "devastated".

However lofty one's position, however affectionately one is regarded, it does not do to become too comfortable in one's position as a member of the royal household. Buckingham Palace said yesterday that it was too early to confirm what would happen to the Queen Mother's staff, but conceded that many of them would face an immediate termination of their contracts. "When any member of the royal family dies, their staff, in effect, become redundant," said a spokesman yesterday. Presumably they would have pension entitlements? "That would depend on the job, and on their contract." But surely those whose contracts have been terminated overnight can expect some cash payoff? "Um. Not necessarily."

It is just possible that Tallon might be able to secure an assignment for another royal, but most of the 40 or so others who worked for the Queen Mother - her mistress of the robes, her housekeepers, butlers, ladies of the bedchamber and women of the bedchamber, her gardeners and maids and the watchman who sat outside her door every night - are almost certain to find themselves, in the next couple of days, out of a job. Tallon can also expect to be evicted from the grace-and-favour apartment at Clarence House that his employer graciously granted him some years ago. Tallon is known to have acquired some small personal money in the form of a bequest from his long-time partner, the Queen Mother's former page of the presence, Reginald Wilcock, but it is likely that many of the others today face little more than a future of not-so-genteel poverty.

It is certainly not a good time to be looking for work as a royal servant, the market having been rather flooded of late. It was little over a month ago, after all, that the same fate befell the long-serving staff of Princess Margaret, 10 of whom were handed their marching orders and politely required to leave their own courtesy homes pronto. The princess's personal chef, Kevin Martin, who prior to his two years at Kensington Palace had spent a decade in the kitchens of Buckingham Palace, was reported to have applied for a council home. Of the 285 houses and apartments that belong to the royal estate, fewer than 10 are used by members of the royal family, the remainder being occupied on a grace-and-favour basis. Which is wonderful when the royal countenance shines upon you, but rather insecure when the air turns frosty; finding yourself out of favour can mean finding yourself, suddenly, out of a home.

The blow might be softened if it were possible to build up some private savings while in service, but despite their fabulous wealth, the royal family is notoriously tight. Until recently, junior porters, maids and coachmen could expect to make £9,000 a year; it was only last year that they got a pay rise to £14,500. Even the most senior members of the household are thought to earn no more than £25,000. The perks for those laid off after Princess Margaret died, which one might expect would compensate to some degree for their paltry earnings, were said to include free TV licences and free soap. Ladies-in-waiting, most of whom lead independent lives but return to court for a few weeks of royal service three or four times a year, receive an honorarium of £4,000 per annum.

Why would one work for the royal family? The answer, as far as the royals are concerned, is duty. But with that particular commodity devalued rather sharply of late, it is likely that HM and the firm will have to reward it with rather more hard currency, and perhaps even job security, than their decorous exchange rates, until now, have allowed. Much missed as the Queen Mother will be by many, the extravagance of her court is unlikely to be mourned by the taxpayers who subsidised it to the tune of more than £600,000 a year. It is unlikely that we will see a retinue on the scale of hers again. Which happens, this week, to be sorry news for William Tallon and his former colleagues.